


Not So Innocent

by Angelwithbrokenwings, dusty_violet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cardiophilia, Cunnilingus, F/M, Heartbeats, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Medical Examination, Medical Procedures, Mild Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Protective Dean Winchester, Schmoop, Surgery, Top Dean Winchester, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5028244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwithbrokenwings/pseuds/Angelwithbrokenwings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dusty_violet/pseuds/dusty_violet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year ago, your world changed when you met your boyfriend Dean. Six months ago, it changed even more when you found out what Dean and his brother Sam do. They reluctantly bring you into the family business and allow you to hunt with them. But one day, a missed phone call leads to a series of events that test you in ways none of you could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we discover a few things about the reader's heart...

It had probably been about twenty minutes or so, you estimated, since Sam had plopped a stack of books from the bunker library on the table in front of you. You had begun reading with the best intentions, but the tomes were old and the language was confusing, and before you knew it, you were lost in your daydreams.

Had it really been only a year since you'd first laid eyes on Dean and he bought you that first beer? You had just driven in from Kansas City to visit your grandma and grandpa on their farm. You loved your grandparents dearly, but they never stayed up very late and there wasn't a thing to do in the tiny town except slip out to the local watering hole.

That was where you saw Dean, eyeing you from the far end of the counter, with a half-drunk beer bottle sweating onto the distressed wood of the bar. Just passing through, he told you. He fed you some story about working for the FBI and before you knew it, the bartender was asking you two to wrap up your conversation so he could close the bar. 

You remember being able to tell that he was really into you, but you couldn't exactly invite him to spend the night with you at grandma and grandpa's - what would they think?! So, you exchanged numbers and he agreed to call you the next time he was investigating nearby. 

Not one week later, he was knocking on your grandparents' door with his "partner", a tall guy he called Sam, asking them questions about the mysterious deaths in their cattle herd. Grandma must have noticed the look Dean was giving you ("Just kiss the nice boy already, sweetheart!"), and that was how you ended up at the bar again, agreeing to go on a first date with the mysterious FBI agent. 

It was another six months of dating before you found out what he and his "partner" (brother)  _really_  did. The revelation came as quite a shock to you. Dean assured you, in full protective boyfriend mode, that he and Sam would always keep you safe from whatever unnatural threats loomed in the darkness. What he wasn't prepared for, however, was how quickly you resolved to help them in the fight against evil. That was your first argument as a couple.

Ultimately, Dean relented when Sam convinced him you'd be safer if you at least knew how to defend yourself. They trained you with knives and guns, and taught you how to draw all the protective warding symbols. But soon your defensive training began to encompass offensive abilities as well, and despite Dean's vehement protests, you came along with the brothers as backup on your very first hunt. 

Oh, crap - wait, you were supposed to be searching these books for a clue for Sam - crap! And what was that noise?

"Hello?" Dean asked into your phone. How long had your phone been ringing? You must have been really deep into those memories of your relationship! You strained your ears to hear the conversation. It was  _your_  phone, after all!

"Good afternoon, is Y/N there?" the voice inquired.

"No, she's in la-la land, can I take a message?" your boyfriend joked. He winked at you, and you resisted the urge to smack him on the arm for that sass.

"This is Dr. Holcomb's office. Could you please ask her to give us a call?"

"What is this about?" Dean asked the person on the other end.

"Unfortunately that information is covered by privacy laws, so I'm not able to disclose that to anyone but Y/N."

"But I'm her boyfriend," he protested.

"I'm very sorry, but I'm not legally allowed to tell you. Would you please just ask her to call us to reschedule?"

"Reschedule?" Dean asked. "Did she miss an appointment or something?"

There was an uncomfortable pause on the other end. "Sir, I really can't tell you that. I think I've already said too much. Please just tell her I called. Goodbye." There was a click as the call ended.

You held out your hand for the phone, which Dean placed in your hand with a gentle smack. "You gonna tell me what that was all about?" he asked you, a mixture of curious and concerned. 

His gaze was intense, and you had to look away to answer him. "Well, with all that driving we did last week, I must have forgotten to call the doctor and cancel?" you replied meekly.

He gripped your chin gently, and turned your head so he could look in your eyes. "Y/N, what's wrong?" He could sense your embarrassment. "It's not the, uh, lady doctor, is it?"

You chuckled. "No, Dean, not the gynecologist; the cardiologist."

His face became instantly pale. "You have a heart problem?!" he exclaimed.

“Relax, Dean, before you freak out-”

“Before I freak out?! Why didn’t you tell me something was wrong with your heart? Why didn’t you tell us? We let you hunt with us! What if something happened – what if you died?” Dean’s voice was getting louder. 

“Dean, let me explain,” you stated calmly. “I have something called an innocent murmur - and that’s what it is, innocent and harmless - and I have had it all my life.  I go in for routine check-ups every twelve months, just to make sure nothing has changed - which they are confident it won’t.”

Dean’s eyes relaxed as he stepped closer towards you.  He lifted his hand to your cheek and spoke softly.  “I don’t understand; so there’s nothing wrong with you?  I thought murmurs were supposed to be really serious.”

You held out your hand to Dean, walking him over to the couch, and explained everything to him: the condition and what it meant for you, and how it doesn’t - and won’t - affect your life in any way. It’s just one of those things that you have had since you were a child; some grow out of it and others don’t. 

Dean looked at you with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry for freaking out, Y/N. I can’t lose you… and if anything were to happen to you…”

You cut him off with a kiss. “I’m fine! And I promise as soon as the hunt is over, I will call and reschedule.”

“Y/N, can I… can I maybe hear it?” Dean seemed shy, which was unusual for the hunter, but you nodded your head and held out your hand to him.

“Sure, come with me.” You lead Dean into your shared bedroom and sat him on the bed. 

“So, how are we gonna do this - are you just gonna lie down and let me put my head on your chest?”  he asked.

You stared back at Dean, grinning. “No. As much as I love you cuddled up to my boobs, this would work better.”  You walked to your closet and took down the box on your top shelf.  You opened it up, and among the papers and test results from your previous appointments and hospital visits was a blue dual head stethoscope. 

You placed the stethoscope on your chest where you knew Dean would hear your murmur the best, and handed him the ear pieces to put in his ears.  You saw his face frown as he concentrated and listened to the sound coming up the tubing.  It was an odd sound, not the normal lub-dub Dean had expected, but more of a woosh-dadub sound: the rushing of blood, followed by what probably should have been a single noise, but was split into two with a fraction of a second between them.

Dean gently grabbed the chest piece from your hand and put it on his own chest.  He listened for a moment while you tilted your head in confusion. He noticed and explained, “I need something to compare it to,” he shrugged.

He pressed the chest piece over your heart again and closely auscultated the sounds.  “So this is totally normal and isn’t harming you at all?” Dean spoke a little louder over the noise.

You kissed his nose and pulled the stethoscope out of his ears. “So they say. Most people grow out of it as their heart develops more and the structure changes, and the blood doesn’t have to go through so many bends, but some people it just stays with them longer,” you explained.

Finally, Dean nodded. “Okay. If you say you’re fine, I believe you. But promise me you’ll see your doctor, alright?”

“Of course, I promise,” you replied, wrapping your arms tightly around him. He returned your embrace with a firm pat in the center of your back. “I’ll call the doctor’s office tomorrow, and as soon as we finish hunting here, I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Dean praised. He started a tickle war which ended up with you beneath him, laughing and breathing hard. Satisfied that he had won, he flopped down beside you and pillowed his head in your breasts.

It took several moments before you became suspicious. "Are you listening to my murmur again?" you questioned him.

"No," he responded, too quickly. After another moment he answered you, "yes."

"Dean..." you sighed, "I'm really okay; trust me."

"I do trust you, babe," he replied. "I'm just worried about you." He felt you chuckle underneath his head. "More than usual, I mean," he corrected.

Your hand moved to his head, gently massaging his scalp in soothing circles. "Would you feel better if you went with me? So you can see for yourself?" you proposed.

"You don't mind?" he asked.

"Nah, it's really not that big of a deal." You kissed the crown of his head. "If it will make you stop worrying, then I don't mind at all."

With that important conversation behind you, Dean was finally able to relax. You felt him go slack against you as he fell asleep; you followed soon after.

 

* * *

 

 The next morning, while Dean was out on a pie run, you finally got around to calling Dr. Holcomb's office back.

It rang only once before a woman answered. "Good morning! Holcomb Cardiology Associates; if this is an emergency, please hang up and call an ambulance. Otherwise, how can I help you?"

"Hi, this is Y/N, your office called me yesterday," you replied.

"Hello Y/N, can you confirm your date of birth for me please?" she asked. You told her your birthday; you could hear typing in the background as she pulled up your file on the computer. "Okay, let's see here... It's showing that you missed your annual follow-up visit last week. We can get you back on the appointment calendar at 9:30 am next Tuesday. Will that be alright for you?" she asked.

"Tuesday morning, 9:30. I'll be there," you confirmed.

"Great, we will see you then. Goodbye!" The woman hung up the phone.

"Where are you going Tuesday at 9:30?" a voice asked above your head. You jumped in surprise.

"Gahh! A little warning next time, please, Sam!" you scolded him.

"Sorry," he replied, his eyes apologetic. You could never hold a grudge against your boyfriend's baby brother when he made that face.

"I have a doctor's appointment," you elaborated. "Just a yearly check-up for my heart."

"Your heart?" Sam was confused.

"Yeah - I have a murmur. It's completely benign though," you quickly informed him, "and I've had it my whole life. I told Dean and he freaked out."

Sam chuckled. "That sounds like my brother alright!"

"Yeah, he even insisted on hearing it for himself," you replied. "So I decided to let him come to the appointment with me."

"He's not gonna let that go until your doctor says it's okay," he agreed.

"I'm totally fine; he'll see," you vowed. "I could show you, if you want."

"If it's okay with you, I mean, if that's not too weird," Sam answered.

"Of course not!" you assured him. "I'll be right back." You ran to your room and returned in a minute with the stethoscope, handing it to him. "Here, listen," you ordered. Sam placed the device in his ears and you guided his hand to the correct spot on your chest so he could hear.

At that moment, Dean returned with a steaming box of pie in his hands. "What are you doing, Sammy?" he asked, taking in the scene before him.

"Y/N wanted me to hear her heart murmur," Sam answered his big brother. He took the stethoscope out of his ears and set it down. "And I have to agree with you, Dean, it doesn't sound good."

"Sam!" you yelled, feeling betrayed. "You're taking his side?"

Sam shrugged. "I just think it's best if you let your doctor check it. Dean and I aren't doctors - how would we know?"

You shot an annoyed look at the younger Winchester. "I still think you two are getting all worked up over nothing. You'll see on Tuesday when I get a clean bill of health."

Dean kissed your cheek. "I know you say you're fine. But I love you and I'll always worry about you."

"Aaaaaawwwww," Sam said loudly. Dean blushed.

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean scolded. He grabbed a fork and angrily stabbed it into the pie. That was the end of that discussion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which something routine turns into something out of the ordinary...

The next morning, you and the boys were up early packing your bags for the hunt.

“Y/N, are you sure you want to come on this one?  You know you can sit this one out,” Dean suggested.

 You shot him a face to rival one of Sam’s. "I’m fine! You let me hunt before, when you didn’t know anything was wrong, and I was fine then. What’s wrong - afraid of being outrun by a girl with a heart condition?” you mocked with a pouty face.

“Oh, get out!” Dean scoffed and playfully pushed you out of the door. Together, you packed the rest of your things into the Impala before leaving for the hunt.

 

* * *

 

You were chasing after the werewolf through the forest, Sam and Dean on either side of you, ready for an attack from all sides. You stopped and decided it would be best to spilt up.  You grabbed your flashlight and set off straight forward in the direction Dean had sent you. You heard sounds from every direction - the bugs, the rustle of leaves and branches - every noise putting you on edge.

Then you saw it; just a flash in the corner of your eye, and then it was chasing you. “Sam! Dean! Get over here, now!” you shouted. You tried to lead it away as far as you could, but you were running out of breath fast. You heard Sam and Dean calling your name and tried to head in their direction, still yelling to them so they knew where you were.

They found you just in time; Sam came between you and the wolf and shot it straight in the heart with a silver bullet, killing it. Sam and Dean shot each other a smile for another successful hunt whilst you tried to get your breath back. You were bound to be out of breath after the distance you had run and the adrenaline in your body making your heart pound, but this time it felt _different_.

You bent forward with your hands on your knees and your head down, trying to take deep breaths.

Dean was over by your side as soon as he saw you. “Hey, hey, look at me. Are you okay?” he said, bending down to your level and gently lifting your chin to his eye level.

You straightened up, taking another deep breath and pretending that everything was okay, “Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You shot him a smile and began walking towards Sam.

“Y/N are you sure, is your-” he began.

You interrupted him. “Both of you, my heart is fine; I am fine. I’m sure you would be the same way if you were just chased through the forest by a werewolf! Now let’s go eat, I’m starving.”

Sam and Dean exchanged glances before smiling at you. Sam wrapped his arm around your shoulders and led you back to the car, with Dean following not far behind.

As you sat in the car, you could still feel yourself out of breath, your heart still pounding. You pushed it to the back of your mind as you let yourself relax and slide deeper into the backseat of the Impala. You smiled and shook your head; even Sam and Dean had you worrying over nothing.

Later that night (or morning), you and Dean checked into your motel room as Sam checked into his. You changed out of your clothes and put on one of your boyfriend’s t-shirts before walking over to him. You held out your hand and he grabbed it, letting you lead him towards the bed. Leaning back, you pulled him down so he was on top of you, and tilted your mouth up to kiss him. He gladly returned the kiss, deepening it as he pulled you further up the bed.

You reached for the hem of his t-shirt to pull it over his head, but he put his hands over yours to stop you. “Babe, c’mon - you know I love you, and I would _love_ to do this, but I am not going to do anything with you tonight.”

You pulled away from him, analyzing his face. “Dean?”

“Y/N, I just don’t want to strain you or push you too hard. I don’t know enough about your heart condition, and I don’t want to hurt you or make you sick,” he looked at you with sad eyes.

“Dean, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you and Sam - because I know it’s absolutely nothing to worry about! I just _knew_ you and Sam would freak out at the mention of something being wrong with my heart. I knew you would try and bench me and tiptoe around me!” Your voice rose before you could stop yourself.

Dean sighed and rubbed his face with his hand, “Look, Y/N, I’m not taking any chances, okay? I love you and like I said, I don’t want to lose you. Call me overly cautious, but if that means waiting until after your appointment when you get the all clear and I know everything is okay, then that’s what it’s gonna take.”

You nodded and gave him another peck on the lips before pouting. “Fine. You can be a real dork sometimes; a sensitive and cute dork, but still a dork.” You wriggled over to your side on the bed with Dean following behind. He lay down and you took your place next to him, resting your head in the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

 

* * *

 

When Tuesday finally rolled around, Dean woke you at the crack of dawn with a kiss on your forehead. "C'mon babe, we gotta hit the road. It's a long drive back to Kansas City."

"Too early," you groaned. You recognized the sound of your boyfriend's laughter from behind your tired eyelids. 

"I know Y/N, but we gotta get moving if you want to have breakfast at that IHOP in Junction City," he teased.

Your eyes flew open. "You know I love pancakes! Not fair, Dean!" you complained.

He smiled and tossed your favorite one of his t-shirts at you. "Get dressed and let's move!"

Thirty minutes later, you stepped outside the bunker and saw Sam leaning against the side of the Impala.

"What're you doin', Sammy?" Dean asked gruffly.

"Coming with you," he replied.

"No, you're not," his brother argued.

You rolled your eyes. "Dean, stop, it's fine. Sam can come."

Sam made a smug "see, she likes me too!" expression at his older sibling, and sunk down into the passenger seat.

"You're not coming in that exam room, though," Dean insisted, waving his index finger in his brother's face. "I don't want you to see my girl with her top off."

"Dean!" you reached forward from the back seat and smacked his shoulder. "Don't be a jerk! Sam's a gentleman and he knows not to look."

The younger brother nodded. "Besides, I already kinda saw 'em that one time-"

"I told you to knock!" Dean exclaimed, vividly recalling the first time his brother caught the two of you in the act.

"Stop it, guys!" you ordered, half-jokingly. "We still have three hours of driving before we get there." Sometimes you felt like you were parenting two little boys rather than dating one grown one.

After a brief pit stop for your pancakes, an egg white omelet with fruit for Sam, and a breakfast sampler with extra bacon for Dean, you finally pulled into the parking lot of Holcomb Cardiology Associates.

The waiting room was empty this morning except for an older couple holding hands in the corner seats. They smiled sweetly at Sam (he had such a way with old people) while you signed in at the desk. You were only waiting for about six minutes before a nurse called your name and asked you to follow her down the hallway.

"Hi Y/N, I'm Kara, and I will be getting your vitals today for Dr. Holcomb," she informed you. "Can I have you step on the scale, please?"

Sam politely averted his eyes as you kicked off your shoes and stepped on. He coughed loudly and elbowed his brother, and Dean looked away as well. Nurse Kara wrote down a number on your chart and walked you into an exam room.

"Have a seat on the table," she instructed. The brothers sat in a pair of metal chairs against the opposite wall while Kara returned with a thermometer. "Open up and I'll put this under your tongue." You allowed her to measure your temperature. After a few seconds, she removed it from your mouth - it was normal, as expected. She placed two fingers on the inside of your wrist next and counted your pulse and respirations. Finally, she velcroed a cuff around your upper arm, slipped her stethoscope beneath the edge of it, and inflated the cuff to measure your blood pressure. She checked both arms, which was standard procedure, she assured your worried companions.

"Alright Y/N, that all looks pretty good. I'm going to get Dr. Holcomb for you," she announced, handing you a cotton gown. "If you could just undress completely from the waist up and put this on, he will be right in." Kara left the room to give you privacy to change into the gown.

Dean immediately glared at his brother. "If you so much as think about peeking at my baby, I swear to Cas-"

"Yeah, Dean, I get it. Not looking," Sam promised. He scrunched his eyes tightly shut. "Okay Y/N, go ahead."

Your boyfriend caught your gaze and you suddenly felt shy, blushing a little. Taking off your shirt and bra for a medical exam was hardly a strip tease, but your man adored you so much that it hardly mattered. Shrugging, you peeled off your shirt (his shirt, really) and unsnapped your bra, flinging it at his head. He peeled them off his face with a giant grin just as you slipped the gown over your shoulders, leaving the back untied.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. “Okay, Y/N, how are we doing today?” Dr. Holcomb spoke as he entered the room. He had been your doctor for years; you knew him well so you were on a first name basis.

“I’m good, thanks,” you answered cheerfully.

He turned to Sam and Dean smiling and nodding his head in their direction. He picked up your chart and read the notes the nurse had written. “It all looks good here,” he said again before putting the chart back and looking at you.

“First things first, questions. How is your appetite?”

You opened your mouth to speak before you heard Dean snickering to himself. You shot him a glare and Dr. Holcomb turned to him.

Dean looked up at the two of you, who were staring at him. “She ate a whole stack of pancakes before coming here; I think we’re good on that front,” he joked.

You nodded in agreement and the questions moved on, asking about fatigue (you’re a hunter - when are you not tired?). You nodded your head, saying you had been tired recently, but with your job it was expected.

“Have you had any shortness of breath or difficulty breathing?” You were silent for a minute and turned around to look at Sam and Dean. “Y/N, I need to know,” the doctor’s voice was serious.

“A little, after exercise - and sometimes I get palpitations - but it’s not constant, and it isn’t very often,” you replied. You heard the boys shifting in their seats and decided not to look around, knowing the expressions on their faces already.

“Okay, let’s start the exam then. Are you alright with these guys staying while we do this?” he asked. You nodded silently.

“Let’s start with the usual. I’m just going to check your pulses.” The doctor picked up your wrist and used the tips of his fingers to feel your radial artery. He wrote down the number and a few other things before moving on. He then moved his fingers to check the pulse in the crook of your elbow, again noting his findings. He checked your carotid, femoral, and popliteal arteries and the pulse in your feet. You always found that one weird; why would he need to check the pulse in your feet? “Okay now can you lie back for me please?” Dr. Holcomb instructed. He then rested his hand over your abdomen for his final check.

“For this next part, I am going to have to ask you to move the gown down, will that be okay?” Dr. Holcomb asked. You glanced over at the brothers; Dean elbowed Sam and nodded his head towards the door. He gave you a smile before walking out.

“Do you want me to stay?” Dean spoke, but his voice wasn’t the same; he sounded worried, scared almost. You nodded and Dean sat back down. Dr. Holcomb gestured with his hands, ensuring he had your permission, then loosened your gown and pulled it down.

He glanced over your chest and asked you to breathe in and out whilst he lightly rested his hands on the sides of your ribs, his thumbs touching in the middle. He felt your neck, looking for deformities or swelling. He then moved his hand to the apex of your heart, feeling for the point of maximum impulse, before checking the rest of your chest wall.

He covered you back up whilst he typed his preliminary notes into the computer. He returned and took the stethoscope from his neck before putting it in his ears and warming up the chest piece. He lowered your gown and listened over all the areas of your heart, starting at the mitral valve, moving his way to the tricuspid area, the pulmonic area, and finally the aortic area. You watched his face closely and you could swear you saw him frown a few times. He spent a lot longer at each spot than he usually did, and even rechecked some areas.

He removed the stethoscope, putting it around his neck once again, and told you that you could pull your gown back up. He walked back over to his computer, typed in some more notes, and wrote even more notes on your paper charts. You looked over at Dean who was watching the doctor closely.

“Okay, I’m just going to step outside so you can get dressed,” he informed you. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He locked his computer and took your charts with him as he left.

You got dressed and locked eyes with your boyfriend. “I think something’s wrong, Dean,” you whispered, the realization only hitting you now.

Dean came over and held you. “It’s going to be alright,” he promised. “Whatever this is, the doctor will fix it, and we’ll get through it like we always do.”  

You stayed there for a while until you heard another knock on the door and the doctor came in once again. He had forms in his hands this time. He gestured for you both to take a seat as he sat at his computer desk once more. “Okay, I don’t want to alarm either of you, but Y/N’s condition has changed. I fear it has gotten worse and it may not be an innocent murmur like we first thought. This happens a lot more than you think it would; the heart is a complicated organ, you see.”

Dean looked furious that the doctors had missed something for so long. But then he saw the worry in your eyes, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly.

Dr. Holcomb continued, “I have some forms here for some more appointments so we can investigate further and see what is going on - if that is okay with you.” You nodded. “I’m going to send you for some blood tests, a chest x-ray, an EKG and an echocardiogram,” he announced.

You nodded, understanding the terminology. You’ve had these tests before and they weren’t scary to you. It was the fact that there was possibly something worse that was wrong with your heart which frightened you.

“Hey, Doc, listen,” Dean addressed him. “You don’t seem too worried. But we did drive a really long way to get here. Do you think maybe we could, uh, knock these tests out of the way today?”

Your doctor turned to your boyfriend with a kindly expression. “Well, I _do_ have admitting privileges at St. Luke’s,” he mused. “Let me call the Heart Institute over there and see how busy they are.” You and Dean returned to the waiting room while Dr. Holcomb signaled to Nurse Kara to make the phone call.

Sam tried to read his brother’s guarded expression, but couldn’t. “What is it?’ he asked.

Dean just shook his head, so you answered. “It’s not a big deal, Sam,” you explained. “I just need some more tests to make sure everything is alright.”

“I thought that was what this appointment was for,” he replied, confused. “What’s going on?”

You sighed; as concerned as you were for yourself, you hated making the brothers worry about you on top of that. “My condition may have changed – or maybe I have some other condition – we don’t know yet,” you answered.

“Y/N?” Kara interrupted. “They can fit you in at St. Luke’s. Dr. Schmidt can see you if you head over there now.”

Sam’s face went slightly pale as he turned to his brother. “Dean, why are we taking her to the hospital?”

The older Winchester clapped his hand on Sam’s shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. “It’s gonna be okay, brother,” he promised. “She’s okay, we’re just gonna find out more while we’re still in town, alright?”

Sam seemed to relax at that, and followed the both of you outside to the Impala.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which new information comes to light and decisions must be made...

The receptionist at the front desk was expecting you when you arrived at the Mid America Heart Institute of St. Luke’s Hospital. A lab technician came to escort you to a room for your blood work.

Dean gave you that look again, the one where he silently asked if you needed him. “I’ll be fine, babe,” you declined. “This only takes a minute.”

Of course, the poor phlebotomist had an awful time trying to find a vein in your arm, so drawing your blood took slightly longer than expected. When you came back to the waiting area, you felt your boyfriend’s discerning gaze running over the bandages on both your arms. He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“No vampire jokes,” you insisted.

Sam just shrugged amusedly.

A minute later, a radiology technician appeared for your chest x-ray. You were glad the boys didn’t come with you for this one, either, since the rather attractive male technician was required to ask if there was any chance you were pregnant. It was a quick and painless test; the technician even had you “smile for the camera.” As ridiculous as that was, it did make you relax somewhat.

When you were finished, the radiology technician handed you over to yet _another_ technician for your EKG. She handed you a gown to change into and led you into a private room for the test.

“Could you go get my boyfriend for me?” you asked her. “I want him to be with me for this.”

“Sure, honey, what’s his name?” she asked.

“Dean,” you answered. The EKG technician winked at you and left the room, returning momentarily with your bowlegged beau.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted you, planting a kiss on the crown of your head.

You wrapped your arms around him briefly, before you had to let go and climb onto the exam table. “I figured you would wanna be here for this,” you told him.

“You figured right,” he replied, his eyes widening as you lowered your gown for the technician to begin placing leads on your skin.

She saw you roll your eyes at him and laughed. “This ain’t a free show, lover boy!” she scolded gently. She put stickers all over your chest and attached wires to them until you resembled a cyborg. “Lie on down, sugar,” she instructed. “I’m gonna have you relax for a couple o’ minutes so we can see your resting heart rhythm.”

When you lay down, you couldn’t see Dean’s face anymore. However, his warm hand slipped into yours and you smiled at the ceiling. You were glad he was here with you at this moment.

“Y’all gonna gimme diabetes with that sweetness!” the technician joked. “You ready to start?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” you replied.

“Alright then honey, I need you to let go of Romeo’s hand, stay very still, and don’t say a word, okay?” she asked. She clicked the start button on the recording computer, and it began beeping and drawing squiggles across the screen. The test only took a minute, and then she disconnected the wires from your body one by one. You helped her remove the stickers from your chest, wincing as the adhesive clung to your skin. Finally, you pulled your gown back on and sat up.

An ultrasound technician knocked and entered the room. She led you down another hallway into a dimly lit room with a bed in the center. You lay down on it while Dean walked around to the other side so he was out of the way.

“Have you ever had an echo before?” the technician asked.

“Actually, no,” you replied, “just several EKGs.”

“Okay, well, this is a very simple test,” she explained. “It uses sound waves to make a picture of your heart for us to look at. Your doctor can use that picture to see what’s going on in there and make sure you get any treatment you might need.” You squeezed Dean’s hand apprehensively; he closed both his hands around yours in a comforting gesture.

“I need to uncover your chest, is that okay?” she asked politely. You nodded and let her pull the gown down to your waist. She picked up a bottle from a nearby cart. “I’m going to put this gel on your skin. It might feel a little cold.” She squirted a bit onto your sternum; you couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine. “Sorry!” she apologized.

Next she picked up a plastic wand which plugged into the computer screen next to you. She used it to spread the gel around before she focused on the image. “Okay, here’s your aorta… it looks good, no narrowing or blockages… aortic valve is opening and closing like it should, that’s good!” she narrated.

“That’s so cool,” you whispered, staring at the screen. “Dean, look!”

“This is not how I imagined our first ultrasound,” he replied.

“What?” you exclaimed.

“I mean, I thought, you know, maybe someday we would have a family,” he elaborated. “If you wanted to, I mean.”

You beamed at him. “Yeah, I think I’d like that, someday, with you.”

The test continued on, with the technician looking at the overall size of your heart, the shape of it, the thickness of the chambers, the different valves, and the amount of blood flowing through. You both were mesmerized by the motion inside your body that kept you alive.

The technician set down the wand, breaking your concentration. “Just hang tight for a minute, alright? I’m gonna go grab Dr. Schmidt for a second opinion,” she explained.

“On what?” Dean asked harshly.

“Well, I know you guys are only in town for the day, so I’ll see if she can read these real fast for you and see what’s up,” she answered.

“What do you mean, _what’s up_?” Your boyfriend was in full protective mode now.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” she said, hurrying from the room.

You looked at Dean and sighed. “You just scared the crap out of that poor woman!”

“Y/N, she said there was a problem with your heart! That’s serious!” he yelled.

“I know, babe,” you said calmly. “With everything that’s been happening lately, I kinda figured something had changed.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” His brow furrowed.

“I knew you’d overreact,” you replied. “I didn’t want you to worry more than you needed to. Calm down and let’s just see what the doctor says, okay?”

He drew in a long breath. “Okay,” he said finally, exhaling slowly. Silently, you waited for the technician to return with Dr. Schmidt, your hands firmly entwined with his.

The door opened again a few minutes later. “Hi, Y/N, I’m Dr. Schmidt,” she introduced herself, shaking your hand. “I looked at your EKG, and I’m gonna re-check your echo here in just a minute. I’m going to have a quick listen to you first, is that alright?” she asked, removing the stethoscope from around her shoulders.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied.

Dr. Schmidt put the instrument in her ears and pressed the diaphragm to your chest. “Just breathe normally,” she commanded. She listened on your upper chest over the aortic and pulmonic valves, then drifted lower over your tricuspid area for a moment before pausing to hear the rhythmic closing of your mitral valve. She returned the diaphragm to your pulmonic area and asked you to inhale deeply and hold your breath. Then she had you repeat the action with you leaning forward. She rotated the chest piece to the bell and placed it lightly on your chest again, listening over all the locations for lower-pitched sounds.

“And we’re going to do this again with you lying down, okay?” she asked. “Relax and keep breathing slowly, you’re doing great.” Once again you felt the diaphragm make its way across the auscultation points on your chest, followed by the bell. She had you roll onto your left side, bringing your heart closer to her stethoscope, and listened at your apex for a while. You could feel your heart beating underneath her hand.

Finally, she stepped away and put the instrument down. “Okay, let’s have a quick look with the Doppler, shall we?” She squeezed more of the cold ultrasound gel onto your chest and spread it around with the transducer wand.

This time, you could hear the whooshing of blood through the chambers of your heart. “Whoa,” Dean whispered, impressed. The sound sped up slightly as you watched together in amazement.

Dr. Schmidt smiled at you. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?” she remarked. She hit a button on the computer, and the screen lit up with color as the blood swished through your heart. “Now it’s even cooler.”

 _Like a fireworks show in my heart_ , you thought. You looked over at Dean fondly, but he was intently focused on the monitor, on one spot in particular. The doctor had the wand positioned over the base of your heart where your left and right atria were. There was a lot of color in this area, and you didn’t know what that meant exactly – just that it probably wasn’t good. She paused the image and was using the computer to draw lines on the screen.

Dr. Schmidt set the transducer down and cleaned the gel from your body, gently draping the gown back over you. “I’ll give you a minute to get changed, and then I think we should talk in my office,” she announced, turning to leave the room.

“Y/N….” Dean began.

You squeezed his hand. “Let’s just wait and see what she has to say,” you replied. You had to act strong for your boyfriend, keep him calm, so you didn’t go to pieces yourself. You held out your arms and he placed your clothes into them, allowing you to get dressed again.

When you stepped out into the hallway, Sam was waiting. “Y/N?” he asked tentatively.

You wrapped an arm around his waist in a half-embrace. “Hey, Sammy,” you greeted.

“You alright?” he inquired.

“We’re about to find out,” Dean answered for you. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The three of you walked into Dr. Schmidt’s office, where she was waiting for you behind her desk. “Please, sit, all of you,” she beckoned. “I’ve gone over Y/N’s test results, and from what I have seen and heard, it looks like your murmur is a symptom of something more serious.”

“What is it, Doc?” Dean’s voice was thick with concern.

“Well, based on the echocardiogram, it looks like what we call an atrial septal defect,” she explained. “There’s a hole between your left atrium and right atrium that shouldn’t be there. You were probably born with it. The abnormal heart sounds are easily mistaken for an innocent murmur in children, and it often goes undiagnosed until people have symptoms in early adulthood.”

“She’s been more out of breath lately,” Sam recalled.

Dr. Schmidt nodded. “The EKG confirms it. Because you’ve only recently become symptomatic, and because of your age, you’re an excellent candidate for surgery.”

You swallowed, grabbing your boyfriend’s hand for comfort. “What kind of procedure is it?”

“I can perform a minimally invasive surgery to fix the hole,” she answered. “I’ll go in through the femoral artery in your groin and feed a catheter all the way through into your heart. From there, I’ll be able to insert a small patch which conforms to the size and shape of the hole.” She pointed to the lines she had marked on the image from your echo. “It’s about two millimeters across here, so I can close that with the patch.”

“And that patch – it’ll hold?” Dean asked gruffly.

“Yes, it will. Eventually heart muscle tissue may begin to grow over it, like a scaffold, and make it even stronger. You’ll be good as new.”

“What are the risks?” you asked.

“The risk does go up for patients over 25 years old,” she informed you, “but that’s mainly a problem in patients with large defects who are experiencing moderate to severe symptoms. I think, in your particular case, we caught this early enough for you to recover completely. However, for the best chance of success, you should consider having this surgery within the next three months or so,” she cautioned.

“I need to talk to my parents about this,” you replied after a considerable pause.

Dr. Schmidt smiled reassuringly. “I think that’s wise.” She handed you her business card. “If you decide you would like to have this surgery, please call the Heart Institute to schedule it. In the meantime, I faxed copies of your test results to Dr. Holcomb’s office. If you choose not to have the surgery, you can make another appointment with him to manage your condition. However, I strongly recommend that you consider the procedure; it will give you a normal, healthy life.”

“Thank you,” you said, shaking her hand.

The three of you walked out of the building and climbed into the Impala in stunned silence. You’d been walking around with a _hole in your heart_ for years and never knew?

“Are you okay, babe?” Dean asked.

You remained quiet for a moment. “Take me to my parents’ house,” you ordered. “Please.”

The Impala purred as your boyfriend turned the key in the ignition, shifted into gear, and turned down the road towards your childhood home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reader returns to her roots to gain clarity...

The journey was quiet.  It wasn't an awkward silence; more like a quiet, comforting silence.  No one knew what to say, and you were all scared for what your new diagnosis and the surgery meant: if you were going to go through with it, and if you were, would you survive?  
  
You called your parents along the way to ask if it was okay to visit them, informing them you had some important news to discuss.  You didn't tell them what was wrong; you couldn't let them worry.  
  
When you arrived, Dean greeted your parents and you introduced Sam to them. They treated them both as part of the family, even though they had only met Dean twice and Sam just today. To you they were family, and that's all they needed to know.  
  
You sat them all down in the living room. You would have sat down too, but you were too nervous, so you started pacing the room. 

"Y/N," Dean called. 

You took a deep breath before you began.  "Okay, so you know how I've had that innocent murmur since before we could all remember?"  Your parents nodded.  "Well, I went for my annual checkup with the cardiologist, and something’s changed." 

You saw your parents’ faces growing more concerned.  Before they had a chance to respond, you began again, "I was sent for more testing earlier this afternoon, and it turns out I don't have an innocent murmur.  It is something called an atrial septal defect, and the only way they can fix it is surgery.”  You took another much-needed breath, realizing you said all of that without stopping.  
  
The room went quiet for a moment, then your mom began crying, and the questions came: question after question. 

"Is it serious?"

"What does the operation involve?"

"When are you having it done?"  
  
You looked at Sam and Dean for reassurance before you started to panic; your breaths were coming out heavier.  "I need some air," you said as your eyes began to fill with tears. 

"Y/N!" Sam shouted after you. He began to get up, but Dean put a hand on his arm. 

"Sammy, give her some space.  A lot has happened today, and she needs time to think.”

Your mom nodded her head in agreement, a tear slipping from her eye.  "Come on Sam, I could use some help preparing dinner." She got up and Sam followed, knowing he needed the distraction. Dean was left alone in the living room with your dad.  
  
"Sir, I've known Y/N for a while now and I've been planning on doing this for a long time… but with the new diagnosis and the operation…" he paused choking back a tear, "I don't know if she'll make it.” 

Your dad seemed to know where this was heading, and got up.  "Come here, son." Dean stood as your dad moved closer and hugged him. "She's all yours, Dean".  
  
Soon the smell of dinner came drifting through the house, and much to Dean's delight, so did the smell of freshly baked cherry pie. 

"It's getting late dear, do you want to go find Y/N?" your mother asked as she approached Dean.  "She'll be out on the hill out back; she used to go there all the time. It's her favorite place to sit and think.”

 

* * *

  
  
It got colder as the night drew closer and you began to shiver.  You wanted to go back inside, but at the same time, you didn't.  You still had so much to think about. 

"Y/N!" you heard Dean calling. You quickly wiped your tear stained cheeks so he couldn't see.  "Hey, are you okay?"

Dean's words made more tears fall down your cheek and you turned your face away, not wanting him to see you cry.  He sat down next to you and you felt him put a blanket over your shoulders as he pulled you into his side, rubbing your arm up and down to warm you up. 

"This was my favorite place to go when I was younger.  I came here all the time when I needed to think about things or when I was sad.  I used to look up at the stars for hours,” you explained. You paused and turned to make eye contact with him. "I'm scared, Dean."

"Me too, sweetheart, me too," he replied. "I've…. Well, I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a long time. I pictured it somewhat differently than this, but I was wondering if you wanted to marry me.”   

Your eyes widened at his question.  Dean pulled out a ring.

"Dean, I can't, that was your mom’s!"

He interrupted you, "It _was_ my mom's, but I know she would have been proud to have you as a daughter in law, and she would want you to have it.” 

You sat there in silence for what felt like hours, but was only seconds. 

"So?" Dean smiled.  You nodded your head vigorously, not being able to say anything more.  Dean slipped the ring on your finger before standing up and holding out his hand to you.  "Come on, let's get you back home before you freeze.”

 

* * *

 

You and Dean walked back inside, hand-in-hand, to the kitchen where the rest of your family was waiting. When the light hit the ring on your left hand, the glimmer caught your mother’s eye, and she started crying all over again. She jumped up from the table and squeezed you tightly in her arms while you patted her back and tried to make her stop sobbing.

“I’m just so _happy_ for my baby girl!” she wailed, grabbing Dean’s face in both hands and planting a giant smooch on his cheek.

“Mom, stop,” you complained half-heartedly. She let go of your boyfriend – fiancé – so Sam could give him a big bear hug and ruffle his older brother’s hair with one of his gigantic hands.

When you had all calmed down, everyone dug into your mom’s famous beef, rice, and veggie casserole with a couple of cold beers and a loaf of freshly-baked bread. Even with the cherry pie for dessert, there wasn’t a single crumb of food left over.

After the meal, your mom made up the guest bedroom for Sam, and your dad set up the pull-out couch in the den for Dean to sleep on; they were very traditional and didn’t think you should be sharing a bed before the wedding. You didn’t bother to tell them you already did - you were both grown adults, after all - but you could at least respect their wishes in their home. With a hug and a kiss goodnight, they went up to their bedroom for the evening and left the three of you to channel surf in the living room.

Sam was the next to go, excusing himself to read in the guest room before he went to sleep. You snuggled closer under Dean’s arm while he flipped through the local news channels, old habits making him scan for anything unusual going on. He seemed wide awake, even though you felt yourself fading after the long day and the full meal.

“I think I’m gonna turn in for the night,” you told him, kissing his cheek.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he said sweetly. He grabbed your left hand, newly adorned with his mother’s engagement ring, and kissed it. “Love you.”

You grinned. “I love you too, Dean.” You went upstairs into your old bedroom and climbed into bed for the night.

Dean shut off the television and lay down on the makeshift bed in the den, but his mind was racing with thoughts of everything that had happened that day. From the anxiety of a routine appointment, to the battery of tests at the hospital and the shock of the new diagnosis, to the danger of surgery looming over everyone’s heads, and finally to the elation of you accepting his marriage proposal and the excitement that would bring in the future. He might have been able to somehow fall asleep if he had the comfort of your warm body next to him; but alone, it was too much for his brain to process, and he simply couldn’t relax.

He sat back up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Head bowed and hands folded, he began to pray.

“I know you can hear me, buddy,” he began. “C’mon Cas, do you copy?”

“No, I try to be original as much as possible,” a voice replied, feathers rustling.

Dean jumped. “Damn it, Cas! You can’t keep doing that, man. I know we’ve talked about this.”

The angel shrugged his shoulders. “I apologize. What do you need, Dean?” he asked.

“It’s Y/N,” he began, sighing deeply. “She’s had this heart problem, and it’s never been a big deal until now. We saw her doctor, and they sent us to the hospital for tests, and it turns out it’s worse than we thought. She needs surgery, Cas,” he made eye contact with the vessel.

Castiel squinted thoughtfully. “And you were hoping I could heal her,” he inferred.

“Can you?” Dean’s voice was hopeful.

The angel sighed. “I cannot close a wound of that nature, Dean. It seems my father made her that way.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” the hunter retorted.

“For whatever reason, it was part of his plan,” Cas explained. “When you or your brother get hurt, I can heal you by restoring you to your previous condition. But Y/N was created with this defect, so I am unable to repair it, despite my best intentions.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Dean pleaded. “I can’t lose her, Cas – she said she’d marry me.”

The angel’s face brightened reassuringly. “Don’t be scared, Dean. I will watch over her. When the surgery is complete, I will speed her healing in what ways I can.” Then he was gone.

 _Be not afraid,_ Dean thought. _Typical cryptic angel shit_. Somehow, he eventually managed to drift into sleep.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, your fiancé was the last to wake and join your family and Sam, sipping coffee around the kitchen table.

“Just hit the red button, son,” your dad called. “That’ll warm the joe back up for ya!”

Dean gave his brother a firm good morning pat on the shoulder and kissed the top of your head before helping himself to a steaming mug of java. He pulled out a chair next to you and your mother and sat down. The room was eerily quiet until you broke the silence.

“I’ve decided I’m going to have the surgery,” you announced, “and I want to do it soon.”

Everyone’s eyes were on you now, but your fiancé was the first to respond. “Are you sure, Y/N?” he asked.

You grasped his hand. “Yeah, I think it’s my best option. Don’t you?” He nodded slowly.

“Oh, honey!” There were tears welling up in your mother’s eyes as she embraced you.

“It’s okay, mom,” you whispered. “I’m gonna be okay.”

“You’ll stay here and recover, won’t you?” she asked.

“Of course,” you replied. “I know you and dad will want to see me, and you can help Dean take care of me. I don’t think he wants to take me to the toilet,” you couldn’t help but grin.

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “Everybody poops.”

Sam snorted loudly, while your father nearly spat his mouthful of coffee all over the table.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reader's healing process begins...

A week later, Dean was driving you to the hospital.  You had packed an overnight bag and the two of you had left for your pre-op appointment and check-in.  Once you had settled in, your parents and Sam would join you before the operation.  
  
Dean navigated the Impala into the parking lot and shifted the engine into park; he moved to get out of the driver’s seat, but you paused for a moment.  "Dean, I'm really scared.  I can't do this; I don't want to do it anymore-"

"Y/N, it's going to be okay,” he interrupted. “This doctor has a really high success rate, and this is one of the easiest surgeries she does; you’re in the best hands. Besides, Cas is going to watch over you too. You're going to be okay." He kissed you on the cheek before holding out his hand and taking yours, squeezing it gently.  "Let's go do this.”

 

* * *

 

Once you were inside the hospital, you had to be checked in. Dean held all your belongings for you, including your street clothes when the nursing staff asked you to change into a gown. First there were the insurance forms (thankfully you were still on your parents’ plan); after that, there were privacy forms and consent forms to sign. Then you were subjected to repeats of all the same tests to confirm everything and to ensure you were healthy enough for the surgery. Finally, after what felt like hours, you were admitted and given a bed in a private room. Dean took a seat in the faux leather chair next to your bed, which crinkled like plastic every time he fidgeted.

His hand closed around yours. “How’re you holding up, babe?” he asked.

“I’m still pretty nervous,” you admitted. “But they haven’t put my IV in yet, so I can’t have any medicine to make me relax.”

“Do you want me to get the nurse?” he offered.

You shook your head. “No, I’ll just wait, I guess.”

“Do you want Cas?”

“No, that’s okay-” you were cut off by a light rush of wind in the room.

“I heard my name,” Castiel announced as he suddenly appeared in the doorway. “What is it, Dean?”

“It’s not me, Cas, it’s Y/N,” your fiancé explained, gesturing towards you.

“Are you alright?” he inquired, cocking his head. He rested a hand on your shoulder. “I don’t sense any injury, and your condition seems to be stable.”

“I’m fine. I’m just… a little apprehensive about the surgery,” you answered.

The angel raised two fingers tentatively. “May I?” he requested.

You nodded your permission, and he rested the pads of his fingers on your brow. Something indescribable flowed from his fingertips into your consciousness, and you could sense his angelic presence caressing your thoughts and memories. It felt like he was searching your brain for the very source of your anxiety. He must have found it, because a flood of grace rushed into you, releasing the tension from your thoughts and profoundly relaxing you.

His fingers left your forehead, tanzanite-blue eyes searching yours intently as he gently cupped your chin. “How is that?” he asked softly.

Your lips quirked up into a drowsy half-smile. “Better,” you replied. “Thanks, Cas.”

The angel dropped his hand and stepped back, turning to Dean. “I have never attempted to do this before, so I am unsure if it will work. However, I believe I may be able to accompany her while she is anesthetized.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“You recall that I appeared to you in a dream before?” Castiel prompted.

“Yeah, and?” the hunter questioned.

“I could communicate with you, even though you were asleep,” the angel elaborated. “The unconsciousness of surgical anesthesia seems to be a similar mental state to sleep. It is likely possible that I can, uh-”

“Get in her head?” Dean interrupted. “While she’s knocked out?”

“Yes. Well, maybe,” Cas replied. “I can try.”

“Good, that’s good,” your fiancé commented. “You stay with her, if you can.”

The angel nodded. “I will, Dean.”

The hunter looked over at you and smiled. Castiel had relaxed you so much that you had fallen back asleep. The angel slipped out of the room so you could have privacy.

 

* * *

 

You started to stir after a while. Eyes still closed, you let out a big yawn and started to drift off again before you felt Dean’s hand gently stroking your face.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he spoke softly, his emerald green eyes sparkling as always. You smiled and opened your eyes, taking him in. Your heart rate monitor began to beep a little bit faster. Dean turned to the monitor and looked back at you with a worried expression. “Hey, are you okay, sweetheart?”

Your heart rate monitor sped up a little more and you giggled. “Yeah, I’m fine; there’s just an extremely attractive man touching me. I guess you can see what you really do to me.” Your face lit up as you sat up and leaned towards him. “I love you, Dean.”

He picked up your hand with his larger, warm one and rested it over his heart as he leaned in closer to you. You gently placed your lips on his and he gladly returned the action, deepening the kiss. You felt his heart beating harder and faster, and you know he heard your monitor. He swore he heard the already funny rhythm stutter, too.

You both smiled against each other’s lips before kissing again, ignoring the nurse who came in. She gave you both a smile before walking out again. As Dean pulled away, he rested his hand over yours on his chest and whispered, “now you know you do the same to me.” You rested your forehead on his for a brief moment until you heard someone clear their throat.

“Hey, guys,” Sam walked in. Your heart rate monitor picked up even faster this time. “Whoa, sorry I scared you Y/N!” Sam and Dean both turned to the monitor and chuckled.

“That’s it! I am taking this damn thing off!” you announced.

Dean stopped you, placing a hand over yours. “Don’t even think about it, sweetheart.”

You gave him a pouty face before turning to Sam. “So, Sam, what’s up?” you asked.

“Your parents are here. I thought I would come in and check if you were okay to see them before they walked in; I’m glad I did now…” Sam trailed off awkwardly. You have him a giggle and nodded.

Five minutes later your parents came in. They didn’t wear happy expressions like your boys; your mom’s eyes were red from crying and your dad held her close.

“Geesh, who died?” you spoke up. Everyone in the room turned to you at that moment. Your face went red as you turned to Dean. “Too soon?”

He tried to hold back his laughter, but you both knew this was serious and there were still risks, no matter how simple the procedure was.

“I’m going to be okay guys; I have angels watching over me.” Your mom and dad smiled, comforted by the possibility of that. Little did they know, you did in fact have a real life angel looking after you.

Your parents sat with you and Sam for an hour, talking about the good times you had with the boys and your family: funny stories from when you were little, both embarrassing and cute. When the OR nurses signaled they were ready to begin preparing you for surgery, Sam and Dean left you alone with your parents for a few minutes. Your mom and dad held you close. You swore you wouldn’t cry; you had to be strong for them, even if you were terrified. Your mom cried as your dad lead her out to the waiting area.

Sam walked in a few moments later. “Hey Y/N, I’m going to head out now. You’re going to be fine, okay?” He said, reassuring himself more than you. “I’ll see you when you wake up. You’re in great hands - both the doctors and Cas.” He smiled and gave you a kiss on the top of your head, squeezing your shoulder just a little bit tighter.

When Sam left, Dean returned to your room. He had made an agreement with the nurses so he could stay with you until you were taken to the operating room. You may have exaggerated, saying he was your husband, but it wasn’t a total lie - he was _going_ to be. The OR nurse came in to start your IV; Dean let you squeeze the crap out of his hand to avoid feeling the pinch of the cannula entering your arm. The nurse gave you some medication to try and relax you, and set up a saline drip to prepare you for the procedure.

Dr. Schmidt came in next to check in with you. She made sure you understood the procedure and that you were still okay for the operation. She brought your anesthesiologist in with her; he made you open wide and say “aahh” so he could check your airway in case you needed help breathing during surgery. With all the final checks complete, it was time for the doctors to scrub in for the procedure. The nurses were about to wheel you out of the patient room and into the operating room when you stopped them.

“Wait!” you cried, reaching for your fiancé’s hand.

Dean rushed over, concern written across his brow. “Are you alright, babe?” he asked.

You worked his mother’s – correction, _your_ – engagement ring off of your finger and placed it securely in his palm. “I can’t bring jewelry in there, so I want you to hold onto this for me,” you smiled. “I know I can trust you not to lose it.”

“You bet your pretty little ass I won’t,” he promised, the trademark sly grin on his face. He leaned in closer and kissed you sweetly. “I’ll be right there when you wake up, okay? I love you, Y/N.”

You began to feel the effects of the anxiety medicine dripping into your veins, but you fought to stay alert. “I-” you yawned, “I love you too, sweetie pie.”

Dean gave you a look. “Sweetie pie?” he queried. You usually weren’t one for cutesy nicknames.

You giggled. “Lovey muffin. Sugar dumpling. Poopsie-woopsie!”

“You’re drunk,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid,” he ordered your nurse, who smiled understandingly.

“Don’t worry, this happens all the time,” he replied. “We’ll take good care of your, uh, ‘sugar muffin’ for you.”

“That’s sugar _dumpling_ to you, buddy,” the hunter joked. You were giggling and waving to your fiancé as the nurses pushed your gurney towards the operating room.

Your memory of the rest of the time leading up to the procedure was very fuzzy. You recall being lifted from the bed onto a sterile, stainless steel table. Your monitors and wires were adjusted, your gown was removed, and you were covered with surgical drapes. One nurse was wiping the inside of your groin with betadine for the catheter site, while another placed a nasal cannula on your face for cool oxygen to gently puff in your nostrils. The last thing you remember was vaguely hearing Dr. Schmidt say everything was ready to go, and the anesthesiologist had you count backwards after pushing a syringe of medication into your IV line.

Suddenly, everything became clear. There you were, tropical drink in your hand, toes in the sand, sun shining brightly in the vivid blue sky, and an angel of the Lord fanning you with a large palm frond.

“Cas?” you exclaimed confusedly.

“I didn’t know you were so fond of beaches.” He waved his arm, gesturing to the scene around the two of you.

Clarity dawned on you. “I’m dreaming. This is a dream,” you said to yourself. “This _is_ a dream, right? I’m not dead, am I? Is the surgery working?”

Castiel smiled fondly. “You’re not dead, Y/N. Everything is proceeding well thus far,” he assured you.

Out of nowhere, a litter of golden retriever puppies ran up and began showering your face in kisses. “Okay, yes, this is definitely a dream,” you confirmed between licks.

“I told you you were fine,” the angel replied, slightly displeased by your lack of trust. He quickly recovered when one of the puppies ran into his lap and began licking him as well. It’s impossible to be grumpy around puppies.

The dogs settled down enough for you to have a conversation. “How long have I been out, Cas?” you asked.

He picked up his puppy and sat it down next to him, where it amused itself by playing tug-of-war with the fabric of his coat. “The procedure has just begun. Your surgeon has made the incision and is advancing the catheter into your atrium,” he answered.

“Am I okay?” you inquired, petting one puppy’s head absently.

“Your vital signs are holding in the normal range,” the angel replied. “Are you in any pain?”

You snorted. “How would I know? I’m drunk on Puppy Island!”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You would know if you were… you’re probably fine then,” he retorted.

“Is Dean okay?” you asked, unsure if you wanted to hear the answer.

The angel picked up on your hesitation. “Sam made him sit down and stop pacing,” he answered. “He’s humming to himself now.”

“Metallica?” you probed.

“I don’t know what that is,” he responded, head tilted in confusion. The puppy next to him pawed at his leg and tilted its own head, equally confused. You couldn’t help laughing.

“Can you tell him I’m fine?” you pleaded.

His eyes clouded. “I had some difficulty getting here, since this isn’t a true dream,” he informed you. “But if you wish, I can go, and do my best to return.”

You nodded your assent, and the angel disappeared, not even leaving a butt-print behind in the sand.

Some time passed; you had no way of knowing how much time, but you had a feeling that it was later. A breeze blew through the branches of the palm trees, and you could swear it was whispering your name.

“Cas?” you called. The wind blew again, stronger; it was definitely saying _Y/N_. “Cas! I’m here!” you yelled, hoping he could lock on to the sound of your voice.

“Your mother is a terrible knitter,” said a voice behind you.

“Cas, what the hell?” you jumped, both surprised at his sudden appearance and confused by his message.

“She appears to be attempting to make you a pair of socks,” the angel continued, walking around in front of you, “but unless I am wrong, I believe socks are only supposed to have a hole on one end, not both.” He pointed to your feet. “Do not be alarmed when you wake up with cold toes.”

“Oh my god – I mean, sorry,” you corrected yourself.

“Your father suggested it would keep her occupied,” Cas explained with a shrug. “But they’re just so… purple, and… fuzzy.”

“Is everyone okay?” you pushed for an answer.

“Yes, they are well,” he replied. “A nurse has been updating them on your progress every so often.”

“How long has it been now?” you asked.

“Nearly two hours,” he responded. “The patch is in place, and your surgeon is ensuring it fits properly.”

“Why do I feel so _cold_ all of a sudden?”

The angel rested a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/N; you’re feeling the ultrasound gel,” he explained. “Dr. Schmidt is performing another echocardiogram to check for leakage.”

“What about Dean? Is Dean-”

“Dean’s fine, Y/N,” Castiel reassured you. “He did say something rather strange – why would he refer to you as a pastry?”

Your face reddened with embarrassment. “Never mind,” you mumbled.

“Does it have to do with his affinity for pie?” the angel wondered out loud. “Surely, as much as he loves pie, he must love you more? He has never expressed a desire to enter into holy matrimony with a pie.”

“Let it go, Cas,” you gently reprimanded, and he dropped the subject.

Suddenly, the sky dimmed and it seemed as if the color was fading around you. You looked to Cas, but the angel had disappeared again. One by one, the puppies disappeared from the beach. The sound of the breeze and the waves was replaced by a dull buzzing of voices and a rhythmic beeping. _I must be waking up_ , you realized. _It’s over, I survived_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reader grows impatient of being inpatient...

“There it is again!” you vaguely recognized Dean’s voice above the background noise. “Her finger moved! I saw it!”

You tried to respond, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. Panic momentarily flashed across your mind – had something gone wrong?

“Her heart rate is going up,” Sam announced. You could hear the beeping accelerate.

A hand caressed your cheek; it must have been Dean’s hand. “Shh, baby, you’re okay. The surgery went great, and we’re all here waiting for you,” he assured you. “Just wake up whenever you’re ready. We’ll be here.” The beeping slowed as you drifted back into the warm, comfortable darkness.

 

* * *

 

“Sammy, look - her finger!”

“Yes, Dean, you said that five times already,” an exasperated voice replied.

A callused, warm hand closed around yours. With all the energy you could muster, you squeezed it.

“She just squeezed my hand!” Dean exclaimed.

“Really?” Sam’s voice sounded hopeful now. “Should I get a nurse?”

“Nah, just press the button,” your fiancé replied. You felt him reach over you for the nurse call button on the other side of the bed.

You successfully forced your eyes open as the nurse was walking into your room. “Good, she’s waking up,” she said, but no one heard her. They were all looking at you.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Dean crooned. “Are you feeling okay?”

“What time is it?” you asked.

He checked his watch. “Three fifteen. You were out for a while,” he informed you. “How do you feel?”

You took a quick mental inventory. “Tired?” you replied. “And my, um, thingy hurts.”

Dean turned to your nurse. “What is she talking about?”

“Is your incision sore?” the nurse asked you; you nodded in response. “We have you on a drip for the pain, plus antibiotic to prevent infection and anti-nausea just in case. Would you like some more pain meds?”

“ ‘S not too bad,” you began.

“Give her the drugs,” your fiancé interrupted. “She thinks she’s a tough girl.”

“I _am_ a tough girl,” you protested.

Dean smiled at you. “I know you are, but please take the medicine, alright, sugar dumpling?” From the other side of the room, you heard Sam’s snort. Your parents exchanged glances with each other like they had missed some inside joke.

“What’s so funny?” you scowled.

“You don’t remember?” he asked, and you shook your head. “You got pretty drunk on whatever it was they gave you, and you got a little creative with the nicknames.”

“Why on earth would I call you sugar dumpling?” you asked. “That’s ridiculous!”

Dean leaned down to kiss you, even though the nurse was right there measuring your blood pressure for your chart. He pulled away when she cleared her throat loudly.

“Unless you got a thermometer in that tongue, Mr. Sugar Dumpling, could you take it out of my patient’s mouth for a minute?” the nurse joked. Your temperature was thankfully normal. “She’s recovering nicely – no sign of infection or swelling. We’ll continue to monitor your pain level and treat that as needed. Dr. Schmidt wants to keep you overnight, but if you’re able to take pills and food by mouth and you can walk unassisted, we can discharge you tomorrow.” Your parents thanked her for taking care of you all day, and she left to check on her other patients.

You slept for most of the day after the surgery, exhausted from the drugs you were being given. Dean stayed by your side the whole time; he would wake you up every so often, checking on you, and to tell you when your parents and Sam had left. They knew you would be safe in the hands of the doctors, nurses, and Dean. When you eventually woke up, he was still there holding your hand.  He smiled at you despite looking exhausted, his face pale and the dark bags under his eyes showing up even more. 

“When was the last time you ate anything or slept, or even left this room?” you interrogated.

He gave you a light chuckle. “I’m supposed to be looking after you.”

You stared at him with the glare you usually reserve for when he or Sam annoyed you.  “Don’t make me get out of this bed, Winchester, and drag you out myself,” you said as you reached for the blanket, preparing to move. But the doctors had told Dean to keep you as still as possible so you could rest and heal. 

“Easy tiger, I was waiting for you to wake up,” he chided. “I’m going to head back to your parents’ house. I’ll send Sam over, and Cas will be here anytime you want - just say the name. Are you-”

You cut him off before he could finish. “Quit stalling, I’ll be fine!” 

With that, he leaned in to kiss you before turning around and walking out of your room. “Oh, and before I forget…”

You stared at him.

“I promise I’ll go straight after this,” he insisted. He reached into his pocket and gently took your left hand in his, sliding his mother’s ring back onto your finger. “ _Now_ I’ll go.”

 

* * *

 

About an hour after Dean left, Sam still hadn’t come to see you and you were bored. You looked around to make sure no one was looking before you prayed.

“Cassss,” you whined in your most dramatic voice. You opened your eyes and looked around – nothing. “Cas, come on man, I’m bored!”

At last, you heard the familiar rustle of wings.

“What is wrong, Y/N?  Are you okay?” He looked at your vital signs on the monitor screen and then turned his attention back to you. 

“Cas, can you work your magic and get me out of here?” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes. 

Cas sat down on the bottom of your bed. “It’s not magic, Y/N. I can’t afford to raise suspicion - and if you were miraculously healed or missing from your bed, that would definitely raise suspicion.” 

You pouted and crossed your arms. “Where’s Sam? Dean said he would send him, and it’s been-”

Just then, Sam entered the room. 

“Speak of the devil,” you announced, still pouting. 

Sam gave you his bitch face. “Really poor choice of words, Y/N. Anyway, how are you feeling? Sorry I took so long to get here.”

You stared down, refusing to look at either of them. Sam turned to the angel. “Cas, what did you do to her?” 

He looked at you and back to Sam, sighing. “She is mad because I won’t heal her and get her out of here.” 

Sam nodded and hummed in thought. “Maybe you could heal her a little bit - you know, just to make sure she can come home tomorrow - you did promise Dean you would.”

Castiel thought for a moment before slowly getting up and closing the door. He walked towards you again, putting two fingers on your forehead. A warm, tingling sensation ran through you and down into your chest, then he pulled his fingers away. “I have healed you as much as I can without raising suspicion.”

Your pout immediately turned into a smile and you pulled the angel into a hug, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you, Cas.” 

Cas pulled away, stunned by your display of affection. “You are welcome. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go. I will return later.” He smiled before smoothing down his trench coat, and then he was gone. 

“Saaammmy,” you dragged his name out. “I’m bored.” 

He took a seat next to you before pulling out his laptop and books.  “Since you’re feeling better, you can help us out with our next case!”

You stared at him blankly, blinking a few times. “I just had major heart surgery, Sam. I’m really not meant to be straining myself,” you persuaded. 

Sam continued unpacking his bag. “Yeah, you’re not going to get out of it that easy.” With that, you both set to work. 

It wasn’t until Dean came back into the room that you realized you had been at it for a good few hours. “Sam, we aren’t supposed to be straining her - she needs rest,” Dean said as he started taking the books away from you. 

Sam was about to speak before you interrupted him. “It’s fine, Dean. The nurses have been looking after me, and I had nothing else to do. Plus Cas stopped by and healed me up some, so I'll be able to come home tomorrow.” 

“And you boys will have to come _back_ tomorrow,” the head nurse announced from the doorway. “Visiting hours were over three hours ago! I have been more than generous with the extra time.”

“Yes, ma’am, you have,” Sam replied graciously. He packed up his laptop and books and hugged you goodnight.

“We’ll be back early with the car, alright?” Dean promised as he kissed your cheek.

The brothers left the room, passing the head nurse on their way out; your fiancé winked at her in thanks.

 

* * *

 

That night, the nurse who came around to check you over and update your chart reported that you were doing a lot better than expected at this stage, and that he would speak to the doctors about sending you home. Dr. Schmidt came back around to check on you, which you were sick of by now. Another nurse stopped in to take some more blood and book you for a repeat of all the same tests before writing your discharge notes.

“Well, dear, I can’t explain why, but it almost looks like you had surgery three days ago, not this morning!” the kindly middle-aged nurse remarked. “No fever, no irritation where the cath went in, all your tests came back normal – do you always heal this quickly?”

You gave her a knowing smile.  “Yeah, I guess it’s just the power of prayer, you know?”

“Amen!” she replied, setting down your chart and fingering the cross she wore on a gold chain around her neck. “God bless you, dear.” She left the room, and shortly afterwards, you were fast asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reader and her boys have a literal heart to heart...

The morning came around and you were perfectly healthy, ready to be discharged. Dean helped you into your comfortable sweatpants and one of his t-shirts and hoodies. The hospital insisted that you be pushed in a wheelchair to the front entrance to where Sam was waiting with the Impala. Then Dean insisted on helping you into the backseat before joining you and holding you close to him, kissing the top of your head.

“I’m glad you’re alive, I don’t know what I would have done,” he whispered into your hair.

You nuzzled into his shirt. “I’m never leaving you, Dean. I love you.”

“I love you so much,” he replied.

“I love you guys too,” Sam piped in from the driver’s seat, fake tears welling up in his eyes.

“Shut up and drive me home, Sammy,” you teased. Dean’s chest bounced beneath your head as he laughed at the both of you.

 

* * *

 

“We weren’t expecting you here so early, Y/N!” your mom exclaimed when she answered the door.

“What are you doing out of the hospital, sweetie?” your dad asked, walking up behind her.

“I got discharged,” you answered, trying to shrug, but your shoulders were blocked due to being cradled bridal-style in Dean’s arms.

“Did you _really_ , or did these fellas bust you out?” your mother joked. She had no idea how close to the truth that comment could be at times.

“Yes, really – Dean, give her the papers,” you instructed.

“Sam – my left jacket pocket,” Dean ordered since his arms were full. Sam fished the papers out and handed them to your mom.

“Diagnosis… treatment… follow-up instructions…” she skimmed over the document.

“It looks official,” your father commented, reading over his wife’s shoulder.

“Don’t you want me to come home?” you pouted.

“Of course we do, sweetie, your mother’s just worried about you,” your dad replied.

“Come on inside, you three!” your mom swung the front door open, allowing you to enter. “Nothing is ready for you yet! I was going to change the sheets, and get some fresh pillows, and set up a tray table for you, and get something started in the slow cooker…” she trailed off as she bustled about the house.

“Don’t mind her,” your dad said as Dean set you down on the couch in the family room. “You know how she gets.”

He and Sam sat down in the arm chairs opposite the couch, where Dean took a seat on the other end by your feet. “Are you comfy, babe?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you smiled at him.

“You look tired,” he continued.

“Dude, you can’t say that to a lady,” Sam scolded his brother. “That’s like telling her you don’t think she’s pretty!”

Dean looked apologetic, but you interrupted. “It’s fine, Sam, I know what he meant.”

“Can I get you anything, Y/N?” your father asked. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“What do we have to drink?” you inquired.

“Water, milk, apple juice, orange juice, ginger ale-” he recited.

“Oooh, ginger ale please!” you interjected. “With a bendy straw?”

Your dad smiled lovingly at you. “Ginger ale with a bendy straw, coming right up.” He left for the kitchen, and your mom re-entered the room with an armful of supplies.

“Sam, would you be a dear and get the folding table from the closet in the den?” she asked. She began unloading items onto your lap – a thermometer, a bottle of aspirin, a small notepad and pen, and a blood pressure kit.

“What’s all this for?” you inquired.

“Oh, just to keep an eye on you,” she answered.

“You really don’t need to worry about me so much, mom! I’m okay, I promise,” you reassured her.

“Humor me,” she retorted. She handed you the aspirin just as your father returned with your soda and Sam with the table. “The doctor’s notes said you should take these so you don’t get a blood clot.”

“I’m not going to get a blood clot,” you grumbled. You took some aspirin anyway to appease her, chasing it with a sip of the ginger ale.

“That’s my good girl,” she praised. “Just rest here and let us take care of you.” She bustled back into the kitchen to continue preparing a meal for later.

“Dad, a little help?” you begged.

“I’ll see if I can get her to dial it down a notch,” he proposed. “But you know your mother. I can’t promise it’ll work.” He followed her into the kitchen, leaving you with just the boys.

Sam had set up the table for you, and put your items on it so you could reach them more easily. With a smirk, he picked up the notebook and pen. “Well, nurse Dean, your patient is all ready for her exam,” he joked.

The boys exchanged mischievous looks; Dean picked up the thermometer. “Open up,” he instructed.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” you complained.

“C’mon, play along,” he winked at you. “It’ll make your mom happy.”

“Fine,” you sighed, letting your fiancé slip the thermometer under your tongue. It beeped ten seconds later.

“Ninety-eight point seven – write that down, Sammy,” Dean stated. He stroked your cheek gently, then moved his fingers to your throat, glancing down at his watch to count your heartbeats. “Pulse rate is seventy-two. Very good.”

“You both know I’m totally fine,” you reminded him sternly.

“Yeah, but your mom doesn’t know that,” Sam replied. “Do you want to be the one to explain about Cas, and the angels, and everything else out there?”

“Okay, you made your point,” you acquiesced. Dean picked up the blood pressure kit, and you held out your arm tentatively. “Do you even know how to use this?”

He wrapped the cuff around your upper arm and fastened the velcro closed. “It’s automatic, Y/N, I think I can handle it,” he answered, sitting back and pressing the button with a smug expression on his face.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, Dean…”

The machine inflated the cuff to a more-than-firm squeeze, and began gradually loosening with a robotic whirring sound. In a few moments, the display lit up with a number.

“Ok, Sam – One eighteen over seventy-four,” Dean dictated. He slid the cuff off your arm and set the machine aside on the table. “And that’s fifteen breaths in a minute,” he added. Turning back to you, he asked, “how’s your pain level right now?”

“Two,” you replied.

He leaned in, his lips an inch from yours. “How about now?” he whispered. He pressed a chaste kiss to your mouth.

“One,” you answered, kissing him back. “You’re an excellent nurse.”

Sam cleared his throat and Dean pulled away rapidly. “It says here to ‘avoid sexual activity for two to five days following the procedure,’ which you two seem to be ignoring,” the younger brother reprimanded, his long finger pointing at your discharge papers.

“Alright, you prude,” your fiancé complained.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch!”

“Language!” your mom scolded from the doorway.

“Sorry,” they apologized in unison.

Sam tore the page from the notepad and handed it to your mother. “She’s doing really well – better than expected.”

Your mom scanned the page and smiled in relief. “That’s wonderful! Maybe we can get her into the shower later. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, I feel pretty gross,” you agreed.

She massaged your shoulders comfortingly. “If these boys give you a clean bill of health in an hour, we’ll give that a try, alright? Now, how about something to hold you over until dinner?”

“What do we have?”

“Let’s see… low fat, low sodium… how about some fresh fruit? Or do you want something a little more filling – maybe a salad with some grilled chicken?” your mom suggested.

“Can I have carrot sticks and applesauce?”

“Yes, I think we have those!” she replied excitedly, hurrying back into the kitchen to raid the refrigerator. She returned five minutes later, balancing two large sandwiches, a bowl of applesauce, and a plate of baby carrots on a large, round tray. “Here we go! Brought you boys a little something, too,” she smiled.

“Thanks!” Dean exclaimed, eagerly reaching for his plate. Your mom handed out the rest of the food and snack time commenced. Your fiancé devoured his sandwich, groaning in delight as he ate.

“Dude,” Sam complained. “Do you have to make love to your food?”

“Well, I can’t make love to my woman for the next few days, so…” his brother answered.

“Just because _I_ can’t doesn’t mean _you_ can’t,” you flirted with Dean.

“That’s enough, you guys,” Sam replied, clearly uncomfortable with what you were insinuating. He picked up the empty plates and brought them back into the kitchen. A moment later he returned with instructions to check on you again.

“Saaaaam,” you whined.

“Don't blame me,” he protested, picking up the pad and pen.

“This is the last time,” you wagged your finger sternly.  

“Open,” Dean ordered, waving the thermometer in front of your face. “That’s my girl.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to comment with the device in your mouth. It beeped and Dean removed it; your temperature was still normal.

Your fiancé continued to check your vital signs, with Sam jotting them down on paper for your mother. She relaxed considerably with proof that you were, in fact, stable and continuing to recover.

Dean, however, remained tense. “Hey, Y/N,” he began, “did you bring your stethoscope with you from the bunker?” He was trying a bit too hard to seem casual.

“Yeah, it’s in the side pocket of my duffel bag,” you replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Can I – I mean, is it alright if I – do you mind?” he stammered. “I want to hear it.”

You smiled reassuringly. “Of course you can, babe.”

Dean left the room and returned a minute later with your stethoscope. While he put it on, you tugged down the collar of his t-shirt which you were wearing to give him access. He laid it diaphragm side down against your skin in the location where he heard your murmur the last time. But unlike the last time, the sound that reached his ears was a repeating, crystal clear duo of thumps - just like there should be. A look of profound relief crept onto Dean's face as the cadence of your heart beating normally filled his head. 

"It's  _perfect_ , Y/N." His voice broke in awe, and you smiled back up at him. "It sounds so healthy and strong and beautiful now." He grasped one of your hands in his free one and began squeezing it slightly in time with your pulse. Neither of you mentioned how the squeezes got slightly faster as you locked eyes.

Your eye contact broke when Sam knelt down beside the couch and nudged your fiancé over. "Stop  _hogging_ her, Dean!" he complained, taking the ear tips out of his brother's ears. "Can I have a turn, Y/N?" he asked.

"Yeah, Sam, I don't mind," you replied. Dean's hand still held the diaphragm to your chest, but the other end was now in Sam's ears. He was silent for a few seconds before he spoke. "Wow - your heartbeat sounds completely normal. That's amazing!"

"Doc did a good job, didn't she, Sammy?" Dean remarked.

"Yeah man, I would never have known if we hadn't listened to it before with that weird whooshing, swishing sound." He gestured fluidly with his hands. 

"Do I get to listen?" you interrupted. "It's my heart after all, c'mon guys!"

Sam removed the stethoscope from his ears and passed it to you. You removed your hand from Dean's grasp and fit the ear pieces into place. At long last, you were hearing your heart beat - lub dub, lub dub, lub dub, lub dub - exactly as it was supposed to sound: crisp, clear, and steady. No murmur, and no sign that there ever hard been except in your memory.

Your hand joined Dean's on the diaphragm. "Can I hear more?" you asked, guiding your hands a little ways down your left sternal border. The volume shifted, so the first sound was now a bit louder than the second, but each part of the pulse was so distinct like it had never been before. "You're right, it sounds so much better than it used to," you commented, "definitely healthy and strong now." You removed your hand and took the stethoscope off, putting it aside with an exaggerated yawn.

"It's been a long day and you're still recovering - do you want to take a nap for a bit?" Dean asked. You nodded. "Okay, babe, c'mere." He sat next to you on the couch, gingerly shifting you onto his chest. You curled up against his solid warmth, and within minutes, you were gone.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reader gets her happily ever after...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One month later.

"Dean, will you have this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"

"I will," he replied.

Castiel turned to you. "And you, Y/N, will you have this man to be your husband, to live together in holy marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"

"I will," you vowed, your voice shaking but your intent sincere.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" Cas continued.

"Her mother and I," your father beamed proudly. He complained about having to wear that "monkey suit," but your dad looked very handsome. Next to him, in an elegant, champagne-colored, tea-length lace dress, your mother was dabbing her leaking eyes with a tissue.

"Please join hands and repeat after me," the angel instructed. "I, Dean..."

"I, Dean..."

"Take you, Y/N..."

"Take you, Y/N..." 

"To be my wife."

"To be my wife."

"To have and to hold..."

"To have and to hold..."

"From this day forward..."

"From this day forward..."

"For better, for worse..."

"For better, for worse..."

"For richer, for poorer..."

"For richer, for poorer..." Dean smirked, and you suppressed a snort, knowing full well where all his "riches" had come from.

"In sickness, and in health..."

"In sickness, and in health..."

"To love and to cherish..."

"To love and to cherish..."

"As long as we both shall live."

"As long as we both shall live." The hunter winked at you knowingly. How many times had he cheated death?

"This is my solemn vow."

"This is my solemn vow," Dean finished. 

"And now, Y/N, please repeat after me," Cas continued. "I, Y/N..."

"I, Y/N..."

"Take you, Dean..."

"Take you, Dean..." 

"To be my husband."

"To be my husband."

"To have and to hold..."

"To have and to hold..."

"From this day forward..."

"From this day forward..."

"For better, for worse..."

"For better, for worse..." You felt tears beginning to form in your eyes.

"For richer, for poorer..."

"For richer, for poorer..."

"In sickness, and in health..."

"In sickness, and in health..." Your voice quivered, and Dean smiled at you reassuringly. He knew implicitly how close to home this part of the vow was, for both of you.

"To love and to cherish..."

"To love and to cherish..."

"As long as we both shall live."

"As long as we both shall live." Which could be literally forever, since you were now legally becoming a Winchester.

"This is my solemn vow."

"This is my solemn vow," you stated. A lone tear dripped from your eye; Dean squeezed your hand in comfort.

"And now, the exchanging of rings," Cas announced. He held out his hand, and Sam stepped forward, placing two golden bands in the angel's outstretched palm. "Heavenly father, bless these rings as a symbol of the vows by which this man and this woman have bound themselves to each other in your name. Amen," he prayed. He placed one ring into each of your hands. "Alright, Dean - more repeating," he grinned at his friend. "I give you this ring..."

"I give you this ring..." Dean placed the band on your ring finger.

"As a symbol of my love..."

"As a symbol of my love..."

"With all that I am..."

"With all that I am..."

"And all that I have..."

"And all that I have..."

"I will honor you..."

"I will honor you..."

"In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Castiel had insisted on a religious ceremony when you chose him as your officiant. You weren't really religious, and Dean had some serious doubts, but you agreed when Cas explained that your marriage had to be legally _and_  religiously binding, with all that was going on in the supernatural world.

"In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Those words sounded foreign coming from Dean's mouth, but you both knew that your union had to be official.

"Now your turn, Y/N," Cas grinned at you. "I give you this ring..."

"I give you this ring..." You slid the shiny golden ring onto Dean's finger.

"As a symbol of my love..."

"As a symbol of my love..."

"With all that I am..."

"With all that I am..."

"And all that I have..."

"And all that I have..."

"I will honor you..."

"I will honor you..."

"In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

"In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

Castiel resumed the ceremony. "Now that Y/N and Dean have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Those whom God has joined together, let no one put asunder. It is my honor to present to you for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Dean Winchester. You may now - "

Dean didn't wait for instructions. He pulled you to him in a passionate kiss, dipping you toward the ground as Sam whistled obscenely.

 

* * *

 

Following the private nuptials, your mom had prepared a picnic on the hill out behind your house. The six of you gathered around the table and celebrated the union with BLTs, potato salad, and fresh-squeezed lemonade. And for dessert? Well, Dean made a strong argument for pie, but you - as the bride - insisted on the traditional cake. It was small, only two tiers: fluffy, delicate angel food cake topped with pristine white fondant icing. Your mom somehow managed to fashion strawberries into the shape of flowers, which adorned the top and cascaded down the sides gracefully. It was perfect.

Castiel made you and Dean pose for photographs before the sun began to set so you would have something by which to remember the day; but you and your new husband both knew this was a day you'd never forget.

"What are you two still doing here?" Sam exclaimed, clapping his brother solidly on the back. "Take Baby, and your baby, and get outta here!"

Dean let out a robust belly laugh, and you suddenly found yourself swept up in his arms in a bridal carry.

"Dean!" you yelped. "You'll wrinkle my dress!"

He cut off your objections with his lips. "As beautiful as you look in that dress, I think it's gonna look even better on the floor of the cabin." With a wink, he sat you in the front seat of the Impala and drove off towards the hunting cabin in the woods that you rented for your honeymoon.

 

* * *

 

It was dark when you arrived. Like a true groom, Dean carried you from the car over the threshold of the cabin. Then, like a true Winchester, he poured a line of salt over the threshold.

"I'll get our bags if you do the windows for me, Mrs. Winchester," he bargained, tossing you the carton of salt.

"Sure thing, Mr. Winchester," you replied.

You finished salting the windowsills when Dean came back in with two suitcases, dropping them onto the bed. He loosened his bow tie and removed his tuxedo jacket, which he tossed carelessly over the back of a worn leather armchair. He plopped into it with a satisfied sigh and kicked off his dress shoes.

"So," he began, eyes twinkling, "when do I get to unwrap my present?"

You chuckled. "It's our anniversary, not your birthday!" You tugged at the veil in your hair, but it was stuck on the twenty bobby pins in your stiffly sprayed updo.

"Let me, Y/N," your husband offered, rising from the chair and extending his hands expectantly. You nodded in permission, and he began gently extracting pin after pin, letting them fall to the floor with a metallic tinkling, until he was at last able to remove the veil from your head and let down your tousled hair.

"Ahhh, much better," you breathed. Dean took the hint and began massaging your scalp. "Mmmm.... Dean, that feels amazing!" His hands drifted lower, massaging your neck and shoulders. He reached the top of the zipper and began pulling it down, releasing you from the strapless gown. 

You stepped out of the elegant white chiffon and turned to face him as he began undoing his cuff links. "Can I help you with these?" you inquired, your fingers caressing the top button. 

"Uh huh," was your husband's eloquent reply. He eyed you hungrily while you took your time freeing him from his shirt. He stepped out of his pants and boxers; you rested your hands on the smooth planes of his pecs, thumbs rubbing back and forth against the warm, soft skin. You leaned forward to kiss his chest and he reached around you, removing your strapless bra and tossing it thoughtlessly across the room. 

When you had both completely undressed each other, Dean began kissing you. His mouth moved delicately against yours at first and you moaned appreciatively. Your husband took the opportunity to slip his tongue between your parted lips. You responded by sliding your tongue against his, tasting him eagerly. One of his hands was fisted gently in your hair, the other lightly pressed against your neck.

"Oh, Dean," you breathed. You backed him up against the foot of the bed, and he sat down, letting his hands trail down the curves of your body and resting them on your hips.

He stared up at you adoringly. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered. "God, you're absolutely perfect." He pulled you closer to him, tilting his head up to take one very interested nipple into his mouth. He licked and sucked skillfully until you were panting, your breasts heaving. He moved his mouth to your other breast, this time gently grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud. One of his hands went to your free breast, massaging it with just the right amount of pressure, and flicking his thumb over the nipple in an unpredictable pattern that made you increasingly excited. He splayed a hand across your chest and paused for a moment.

"Dean, _mmmmm_ , don't stop," you whined.

He chuckled thickly. "I promise, I won't," he assured you. "I'm just checking up on you real quick." He felt your heart thumping vigorously against his palm.

You squirmed impatiently. "It's been a month, and the doctor said I'm fine!"

He kissed between your breasts where your pulse was visibly pounding. "Oh, yes, babe - you're more than fine." You could feel him smile against your skin.

You motioned for Dean to slide back on the bed, and you climbed carefully above him. He rolled you both over so he was on top, kissing between your breasts again. He kissed lower and lower, dipping his tongue into your navel as he passed over it. When he reached your lower abdomen, he gently pressed your thighs apart and positioned himself in between them. Now your fingers were in his hair, ready to guide his head to where you wanted it. "Yes, Dean, please..."

But Dean was content with taking his time. He stroked the sides of your waist, tracing his calloused fingers across your belly and dragging them over the crease of your thighs. On one side, there was still a raised pink scar from where the catheter had been inserted during your surgery. He rubbed his thumb across the surface tentatively. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

"No...  _please_ , Dean, I need you," you groaned. His concern was touching, but you felt perfectly healthy, and his delay was only making you frustrated.

The hunter lowered his lips to your scar, lapping at your femoral pulse which bounced under his tongue. He pressed his thumb between your outer folds and felt the slickness there, as well as the uptick in your pulse as your body responded favorably to the touch. Your fingers tugged more tightly in his hair. He hummed against your artery and picked his head back up, moving it to your entrance. He used his thumb and index finger to spread you open, and sighed hot and humid across the exposed flesh. You shivered in anticipation. He smiled and moved in closer, his tongue finally making direct contact with your clit.

You jerked at the sensation. "You love it, don't you, Y/N," he whispered huskily between your legs. You answered him with a drawn-out moan. Emboldened, Dean began to tease the enlarged nub with the tip of his tongue. He used light pressure, just flicking you at first; he eventually graduated to more forceful licks, incorporating a bit of suction as well. He could feel your pulse pounding there, too, and could tell you were getting close.

"Dean!" you cried. But he wasn't ready for you to come just yet. He sat up on the back of his heels and reached over to the bedside table, where he had stashed a box of condoms. You watched, wide-eyed, as he rolled one onto his cock. Had he really gotten that aroused just by giving you pleasure? You moaned, testing your theory, which was quickly proven true as his dick twitched in response. You gripped his hips tight enough to leave bruises while he aligned himself with you.

"You ready for me, babe?" he asked. He didn't need to ask; he already knew you'd say yes.

"Ohhhh, Dean,  _now, yes, please_ ," you begged. 

Your husband thrust into you faster than you expected, but you were wetter than he expected. He immediately adjusted his speed and depth to make the build-up more gradual.

"No," you whined, missing the intensity of his first stroke. "More! Fuck!"

He paused. "Are you sure?"

"Dean, I know you want to go slow, but just fuck me!" you insisted.

A massive grin crossed your husband's face. "I love you  _so fucking much_ , Mrs. Winchester," he breathed against your lips, kissing you aggressively. He pulled back with a wink and began pounding into you. A familiar sensation of tingling warmth spread all over your body and your thighs quivered as Dean brought you roughly up to the edge. 

"I'm... I'm..." you whimpered, punctuated by his thrusts. 

"I know," he replied. Your walls contracted around him, making his balls draw up tight. A few more strokes and neither of you could contain it any longer.

"Dean!" you moaned. He released inside you immediately after your climax. 

Your husband pulled out carefully, discarding the spent condom in a strategically placed waste bin, and laid down next to you with his head over your heart. You tried to catch your breath as you laid there on your back, your heart racing. You placed your hand on your chest, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself. Dean noticed this movement and watched you closely. "Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" He sat up immediately, watching you for any signs of distress. 

"I'm... I'm great," you smiled. "Just... give me a minute... to get my breath back. That was just awesome sex!"

Dean's eyes were full of concern; he wasn't going to drop this anytime soon. 

You grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest under your own and pressed down. "It's already slowing; it feels normal. I'm okay."

Dean smiled and released a sigh of relief, leaning down to kiss the top of your nose. He laid his head back onto your chest and nuzzled your skin lightly with his nose.

"Aren't you glad I had that surgery?" you asked. "We wouldn't have had such great wedding night sex if my heart still had a hole in it!"

Dean kissed your apex and rested his head back down again. "I'm glad you're healthy," he agreed. "And I'm glad you're my wife... I love you, Y/N."

You sighed contentedly. "I love you too, Dean." 

Dean pulled a blanket over the both of you when he heard your heart slow down into a sleepy rhythm and felt your body relax. Knowing you were safe and warm by his side, he drifted off too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angelwithbrokenwings made me write smut for the first time. This is entirely her fault ;)


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